JUST A TINY COSMIC DANCER

a poem by Phil Cerasoli, USA

Long after western sun has setI smoke the day’s last cigarette;I sit outdoors and watch the starlit skies.Soon the moist air starts to drapeAround my shoulders like a capeAs Orion strikes his pose before my eyes.

And in those moments of reposeA feeling deep inside me growsThat clears my mind of all the worldly fog.It joins the stars in outer spaceReminds me of my humble place:A speck of dust; a tiny cosmic cog.

And I wonder as I sit,Trying to make some sense of it…Trying to assess the role of Man.Souls of sages, souls of foolsHeld in place by molecules;Microscopic parts of unknown plan.

We’re forced to walk down hardship’s path;Forced to suffer Nature’s wrath,Compelled to look for enemies to slay.Urged to pick a single GodFrom several, each with Golden Rod,Then decide to whom we sacrifice and pray

And amid the sound and furyLife creeps on with little hurryUnconcerned with all the conflict and debateOver why it is we’re here;Living, dying on this sphere;And what will be each person’s final fate.

And I’m tired of all the noiseAnd of mankind’s lack of poiseAnd I’ve closed my ears to what most have to say.And I choose to meditateDifferent avenues of fateTo see if I can settle on The Way.

So I seek the final answer,Just a tiny cosmic dancerWaltzing on this endless universal stageKnowing as I dance the danceThere is very little chanceOf The Answer ‘til I reach my final page.